His parting command had been to “do his duty; that he would rather know his son had fallen in battle, than hear he was a coward.” Painfully wounded in the head, he yet remembered the injunction; his great anxiety was, that his father might know he had obeyed him.
The streets of this city of tents are gradually assuming a much more cheerful appearance: arbors are erected at the front and rear of the tents, thus forming a continuous shelter and pleasant walk for the patients.
August 4th was the national fast-day; the camp unexpectedly short of rations, so many fasted who would not otherwise have obeyed the President’s proclamation; a sermon at headquarters, in the evening, by the first division chaplain. A party composed of the ladies in the hospital were invited, with the surgeons, to take a trip up the James in the Sanitary Commission boat; through the dilatoriness of one of the ladies, all were detained; when we at length reached the wharf, it was only in time to see the boat slowly steaming on its way with not more than eight or ten of the invited party on board. Disappointed and sadly vexed, we retraced our steps; but when, a few hours after, they returned with the mournful tidings that, near Turkey Bend, they were fired upon by guerrillas,—the engineer instantly killed, two Sanitary agents wounded, one mortally,—we saw how providential was our detention; had all gone, the conspicuous dress of the officers would have made them a fair mark for the rebels; with a larger company, the loss of life would probably have been greater. The boat was obliged to put on more steam, and proceed on her way until they came to the gun-boat which brought them in safety beyond the reach of rebel bullets. The large Sanitary flags were floating from the mast, conclusive evidence to the guerrillas that the vessel belonged to that noble organization whose field of labor embraced all the wounded within our lines; Union and rebel alike kindly cared for.
August 9th, a terrible explosion occurred on board the ordnance barge at City Point; at the moment, I was occupied in the arbor in front of our tent, and so had an unobstructed view; with the first shock stooped to the earth, as though struck upon the head; the tent quivered as though it must fall; it seemed so very near that the first thought was, the rebels are shelling the hospital; finding that not correct, the next surmise was, Gen. Grant’s headquarters have been blown up. There now rose to a great height a dense column of smoke, spreading out at the top in form of an umbrella, and from it fell a shower of death-dealing missiles; it literally rained muskets; shells flew in all directions; some passing over us, exploded beyond the hospital. The scene upon the bluff near the landing was sickening: dismembered bodies were strewn about the ground, the dead and dying side by side; the wounded were soon gathered up and brought to the hospital.
The cause of the accident could not be accounted for, until upon the trial of the villain Werz, a rebel witness related how he had done it: making some excuse to see the captain, was told he was not on board, insisting the package that he had for him could be given to no one else, asked permission to place it upon his table; as he did so, arranged the fuse, and withdrew to a place of safety. The explosion soon occurred, as he anticipated, destroying many lives, principally among the colored laborers; the others having gone to dinner. A large amount of government property was destroyed, and many buildings.
August 12th, a few of the ladies in the hospital, with some Sanitary Commission officers, went at 2 P.M. on board the little tug-boat “Gov. Curtin” to Point of Rocks, Bermuda Hundred, and City Point,—the first rest away from the wounded since this campaign commenced, in May; took tea on board the supply-boat of the Commission, which is anchored at City Point wharf. The short trip did us all good, and we returned refreshed, ready for our daily duties. When we reached our hospital, found the tents and every place of shelter filled; hundreds of men lying upon the ground; occupied until late in the evening waiting upon them. Cannonading again heard up the James River. The second corps is moving somewhere, and the hospitals crowded in consequence. During all that week there seemed to be no cessation of the firing; wounded were constantly sent in; and old scenes were again and again repeated.
A young lawyer, sergeant in a New York regiment, is so deeply grateful for the little done for him—imagining, as many others do, that he would have died without it. An elder brother had fallen in one of the early battles of the war, and then he thought he must take his place. When he enlisted, it almost broke his mother’s heart; and now he often asked, would she ever see him again? We feared not, and as soon as possible hurried him off to a more favorable climate and better care. Near him lies a Vermont sergeant, who tells me he has been a wanderer in many lands; but that away up in Vermont his mother is always working for the hospitals; he never could see the use of it, but now will write and tell her it is returning in blessings upon her son.
The fight at Deep Bottom sent to us many wounded, the most serious cases taken without delay to Washington. The day before this battle, as the men marched wearily by the hospital, covered with dust, ignorant of their destination, all were exulting in the prospect of going to Pennsylvania; still further to confirm them in the belief, they were embarked at City Point and the transports started down the river; proceeding on their way until darkness concealed them from view, they silently turned about, and moved up again, to be taken into the battle. While it was raging, a company of the 57th New York was commanded by a sergeant; unwilling to occupy the position, as his comrades told me, he was lagging behind; a corporal near him could bear it no longer, and stepped out to lead the men as though he had always been accustomed to command. Gen. Barlow sat upon his horse, quietly observing the whole manœuvre; and when the fight was over, sent for the corporal, telling him at such an hour to report to Gen. Hancock’s headquarters. The man left, wondering what had been done; and when he returned according to orders, the two generals consulted together for a few moments, the corporal was called in—and when he left the tent, it was with the rank of captain, as a reward for his gallant conduct. He again entered the battle, filling the position he so well merited; but within an hour fell dead, shot through the heart.
Similar cases were reported to us where bravery was encouraged by promotion upon the field, to show that deeds of valor were appreciated by their leader. Gen. Hancock possessed, in a remarkable degree, the power of exciting enthusiasm among the mighty hosts he so often led to victory. We, who have been with this corps long enough to become “veterans” in the service, may well be pardoned for the interest we feel in the enduring fame they and their intrepid commander have achieved.
The hospital again crowded with the wounded and sick, which are sent North as rapidly as the transports can take them. “Hancock’s cavalry”—as the rebels style the second corps, from a way they have of appearing in most unexpected places—again “on the move,” which accounts for the late unexpected addition to our numbers.